


Gingerbread

by WolfVenom



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Constantine (TV), DC Cinematic Universe, Superman - All Media Types, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Crack, Drabble Collection, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Funny, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: Drabble fills of tumblr requests, Festive Prompts. Each chapter is labelled.Chapter 1 - Jon & DamianChapter 2 - John & Chas





	1. #5 - JonDami

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuguralSanguinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguralSanguinary/gifts).



> Happy Holidays~

Jon held his mom’s hand through it all. A lopsided grin, a touseled cow lick, cheek wiped with green and red whipped cream from a latte he nursed in his opposite grasp. Damian hated it, but he let Missus Lane-Kent hold his hand, too. It wouldn’t do to get noticed as the son of Bruce Wayne in public now, not with all these “Christmas-Crazed” lunatics shouting around. If anything, her hand around his stayed any stray eyes from locking onto him.

 

So, with the guise that he was just another child, here to witness the joys of Saint Nick, Damian grasped her hand a little tighter.

 

But yet somehow he lost Jon’s touqe’d head, the alien boy who dropped his mother’s hand and skipped away to pet the reindeer. A fuzzy little herd, a mama nursing her calf. Lois pushed him, gentle, towards the grazing beasts, a smile on her glossed lips, purple so much like Mother.

 

Grumpily, he went, picking Jon out next to the calf as it nibbled and grazed and decided that his ripped jeans were more tasty than the line of hay and hands offering carrots.

 

Damian kneeled by the baby, scratching her rump as she toppled Jon. Thankfully no other kids found the deer interesting.

 

“ _Oof,_ heavy baby! I bet my dog could lift you!” Jon cheered, and Damian scoffed, letting her mother wander over and gnaw on his jacket. Her nose was soft beneath his fingers; she licked him.

 

It was… Actually pretty nice. The barn stench, Jon trilling over the roar of Metropolis, knowing a woman he trusted stood just outside the pen with her phone out, sending picture after picture to Kal-El. Damian didn’t find it possible to get angry over it. Mama reindeer was much more important.

 

But then they started to _wail._ The people, all singing a too-jolly tune, and the reindeer grumbled and pawed and snuffed like their ears were being bled and Damian felt their pain through his place against the cow. So ignorant, trucking these creatures from the countryside to corale them in a city for their own entertainment.

 

Jon noticed, damn the boy, came over and teased him for it.

 

“Looks like the bat-boy can’t find his Christmas spirit.” He sang.

 

A growl. “Christmas is a holiday lie. A time where capitalism clutches the wallets of poor and old simply to romanticize the act of giving a material possession to provide temporary happiness. So no, Kent, I’m not going to find the _Christmas spirit._ ”

 

“Jeez, okay.”

 

And the singing continued and the cow began to bray.

 

Lois gave an audible chuckle. Damian hissed and twisted over to lay face first in the thick mane of the cow, glaring at Jon.

 

“Remind me why I can’t kill these carolers, Kent?”  
  


 

_“Because it’s illegal, Dami.”_


	2. #7 - JohnChas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk.

“See, could’ya maybe turn Shania down a smidge, mate? Kind of hard to focus with those high notes there.”

 

“You’ve been sitting there for an hour trying to fill the glass to the rim without spilling. I’m allowed Shania.”

 

John huffed and watched as his cup once again overflowed, sending whiskey all over the table. Nothing else was really enjoyable. No demons to scry out, no goblins or boogeyman's to chase down, and Zed was in the city doing all of their holiday shopping. And as always, it felt utterly wrong to try and find someone to bed on Christmas Eve.

 

‘ _Yeah, here’s my Christmas present! A cheating lover, some alcohol, maybe an STD or something if you’ve been naughty.’_

 

So he chased his glee at the bottom of a Jack Daniel’s bottle.

 

Plus, as he remembered, Geraldine and Renee were out as well. Were they with Zed? He couldn’t damn well remember.

 

_Oh, this wasn’t the millhouse…_

 

Chas snorted over the brown box he was currently wrapping. “Finally dawned on you?”

 

“Get fuckin’ lost, you badger.” John groaned and used his sleeve to mop up the mess of alcohol. His own gift - a sealed holly box, filled with a Norse charm to call out feline spirits for protection - for Geraldine was crumpled in newspaper and a twine bow, his meager attempt at wrapping. Constantine was not the man to celebrate holidays as such.

 

Usually he would just mail her the cool things he found in his travels, no fancy paper needed.

 

Finding boredom overthrowing his hangover, John rolled over onto his back and towards the tree where Chas sat, squinting against the brightly coloured lights as he rested his skull on his lap.

 

Summoning the best pouty face he could, John whined once more against the onslaught of Miss Twain. Michael Buble then jumped out to finish her off and John squirmed.

 

“Could you _please_ turn that poor excuse for music off; my beloved, treasured, handsome, charming best mate?”

 

“My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.” Chas shoved his head off and John landed with a thump on the carpet, hissing and slinking away like a scolded cat.

 

What a bloody betrayal.

 

He fished out his phone from his crumpled position against the wall and popped Zed on speaker, waiting for her to pick up.

 

“What do you want, John?” She mumbled across the line.

 

With the most childish voice that surprised even himself, John replied, “Chas is being mean to me,” dragging out the vowels as long as possible.

 

Zed yelled at him, “John, you’re off the rails drunk and I’m too busy to deal with it. Go to sleep or something!” And then she was gone.

 

He hoped his present was some new friends...

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr. @zer0kaji


End file.
